


Rule 28

by Questions3



Series: Rules and Regulations [3]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Actual Thief Bilbo, BAMF Belladonna, BAMF Bilbo, BAMF Grammy Baggins, F/M, Female Bilbo, Young Bilbo Baggins
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-19
Updated: 2013-11-19
Packaged: 2018-01-02 01:36:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1051004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Questions3/pseuds/Questions3
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>DON'T Trust WIZARDS!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rule 28

**Author's Note:**

> I wasn't planning on having this one out till after I'd actually gotten to the Mirkwood chapters in the main work but Grammy Baggins came back and slapped me with her cane.

            “I know that look all too well.”

            Belladonna found herself cursing her very existence under her breath as she turned to see her mother-in-law standing just at her right having apparently let herself into the smial. Her icy blue gaze was traveling over Bilbo where the faunt sat at the window in the library, a book laying forgotten in her lap as her amber gaze under a pair of furrowed brow trailed somewhere towards the southwest. White teeth had come forward to worry at an already ragged pink lip as knees bent and arms twined around them. The young tween was clearly worrying over something as she sat there, but somehow Belladonna found that infinitely more comforting than the sometimes shy grin and pink blush her daughter would sport as she fixed glazed honey eyes in the same direction.

            Either way, however, Belladonna didn’t need her mother-in-law chiming in with whatever critique she had ready for the younger mother. She could raise her own damn faunt and that was that. The only one allowed to make her feel guilty about how she was bringing up her little Bilbo was Bungo and he was just going to have to wait a few years more before he could get his two sense in. Of course by then it would be too late as they’d both be dead and Bilbo would be a fully blossomed adult.

            She still wasn’t taking any shit from Laura Baggins, “I was under the impression a _‘Lady’_ knocked and awaited invitation before she waltzed into someone’s home.” The tone was wry with a little bit of underlying malice, seeing as she’d once been ridiculed for just the same offence when she and Bungo had been courting. The small victory was swiftly stolen back, however, at Laura’s next words.

            “That’s the exact same way he’d look whenever you left on one of your ‘adventures’. He’d stare worriedly out the window till you came back safe and sound. And without any other lad hanging off you, of course.” The older hobbit turned to the now ashen young woman, though neither of them were _so_ young any longer, as it were, and her mouth shifted into a half smirk half grimace as she continued, “So exactly would kind of scoundrel have you been exposing my granddaughter to now Belladonna? Or have you not been keeping a close enough eye on her to know what’s putting that dewy eyed, moon face on your own daughter?”

            If Bella’s hair could stand on end it would be bristling at the implication. As it was, the younger mother couldn’t find it in her to take entirely too much offense as she was once again consumed with the concern she’d been desperate to keep at bay since she’d first seen those amber eyes going honey soft. Truth be told, Bella was intimately aware of exactly what that look meant having spent the better part of her life on the receiving end of it. Her Bungo had never looked at anyone the way he’d looked at Bella, like she could make him either the happiest man in the world or the saddest creature in creation. But either way there was always an underlying devotion that had originally shaken her until she’d come to depend on it like she had breathing. There were a good few times she’d scampered out of Hobbitton just to avoid those looks, seeing them as a trap she could ill afford to fall into, or a lie she should know better than to fall for, even as it made her own heart flutter and her palm’s sweat. Every time, without fail, she’d find herself missing it, drawn back to Bungo and his warm and happy smile as surely as the sun would crest in the East. Her stints out of the Shire eventually grew shorter and shorter, less and less frequent as she found something inside the quiet little town to hold her there. Then Bungo had built them this home and she’d been well and truly anchored here and to him. It was only in death he’d released her from Hobbitton, though even death hadn’t released her from him.

            Bella wasn’t sure how long she’d fallen into her thoughts, missing possibly the only civil interaction she’d ever have with her mother-in-law (seeing as death did not end the ties of familial responsibility). She dragged back to the moment, however, when the bell rang through the smial. Someone was at the door. With a quick ‘excuse me’ to Laura she made her way to the front of the home.

            Pursing her lips the wrinkled old woman moved fully into the library her Bungo had spent so much time building and stocking to sit beside her granddaughter. It took more time than she particularly enjoyed seeing her still _very_ young tween to turn and acknowledge her existence. But when she did Bilbo gave her Grammy as bright a smile as she ever had and reached in for a cuddle, “Gramma, what are you doing here? How long have you been watching me?”

            “Long enough to know, though I’m much too old for this nonsense, I’ll be repeating myself. You know, when your father had set his sights on your mother I wasn’t exactly thrilled. She was always running wild when she was in the Shire and when she wasn’t running wild she was outside getting into the Lady knew what Eru knew where. I thought for sure she’d break my homely boy’s heart.” The stern gaze was fixed on the soft features of her young audience. As she spoke the frown came back to mar the clear brow and steal the shiny smile away as teeth began to worry lips and amber eyes fell downcast, darkening with regret and loss. Hands gnarled with time came up and cradled that cherished face in their paper-thin palms as she continued her lecture sternly, “I told him then, what I’m going to tell you now. If whoever he,” a narrowing of icy eyes and a pursing of the lips indicated a shift in thought, “or I suppose, she,” this had a small smile and eye roll from her granddaughter, assuring the older woman she wouldn’t need to become quite so open minded at such a late age, not that she wouldn’t for her little Bilbo, after all the child was nothing but goodness and light, everything about her would be the same. With an uncommitted nod the lady continued, “is worth even half the worry you’re giving over them, you needn’t be so devoted to the extra stress. They’ll come find a way to you, and realize quick as anything you’re worth the world.” With a quick nod at the return of, if not as wide at least a fond smile for Grammy, she finished her small lecture with something she hadn’t been able to tell her Bungo, “I certainly never expected your mother would be smart enough to realize that about my Bungo, but there you go. Even the hardest turnip will yield deliciously when cooked long enough.”

            Belladonna walked back into the library, guest in tow, to the sight of her mother-in-law smiling at her laughing Bilbo. It was the first time the growing lass had shown that much joy in the months since they’d left the Blue Mountains to be back in time for her birthday. It brought an instant smile to the worried mother’s face. The sharp disapproval in her mother-in-law’s face as she spied their guest made that smile sharp and all the brighter as she announced, “Laura, I’m sure you remember Master Gandalf? He’s stopped by to wish Bilbo a belated happy birthday.”

            The wily old man smiled benignly as the tiny old hobbit glared at him as fiercely as any orc was capable and descended her grey head as regally as possible before clutching her granddaughter’s hand once more and rising to leave. As she passed her daughter-in-law she hissed fiercely, “You better be careful lass. That barmy old coot will lead you and little Bilbo right off a cliff. And seeing how she’d already hanging on by threads I’d advise you take things slow and smart instead of headstrong and halfarsed!” Without giving Bella even the time necessary to realize she’d just cussed in front of her (in front of a _guest_ even!) the matriarch was seeing herself out.

            Turning to Gandalf she saw her daughter had rushed forward, all smiles, to hug the Grey Wizard. He tried to make it a habit of coming by every now and again on either Bilbo or Bella’s birthdays, or there about, since he’d met the youngling as a very tiny faunt. As such Gandalf held a place of honor and deep affection in the hobbits’ hearts. With one of those grins that never ceased to twist her father around her tiny fingers, Bilbo asked the old Pilgrim, “What have you been up to this time Gandalf?!”

            With a twinkle in his eye Bella would later relate to the unholy fires of Mount Doom, he turned to look at the mother and announced, “Well my dear, I’ve actually come looking for someone to accompany me on an adventure!”

***

            Thranduil was very much tempted to use this sudden rash of odd occurrences as the push he needed to justifiably leave these accursed woods for Mithlond. The sylvan King sat upon his throne listening as the fifth subject in as many hours came forward with some such complaint about missing accouterments. Honestly he thought this was _far_ from something he should have to deal with, his wood was being overrun by any form of dark creature that could slink through it, and recently there’d been tell tale markings of some _very_ large arachnids. All _these_ grievances made sense for a _King_ to be approached about. Galion’s missing cutlasses was hardly his concern. The only reason he was even entertaining these worries was Galion happened to be his Captain of the Guard and had also found reports of similar theft throughout his halls. An archer found her bow missing, a butler had misplaced some serving spoons, the larder was suspiciously empty and even his own son had apparently lost a pair of rather impressive mitral daggers. They’d been ornate rather than effective, too short to be useful for more than letter opening or at meals but sharp and happened to be family heirlooms. If it weren’t for the fact Legolas was known for his care and sharpness about his person and his possessions the King would have chalked this whole nonsense up to foolish misplacement and ended the day by glaring at any who came to him with such meager complaints.

            Beyond the missing items there were also some odd happenings taking place. The chef had sworn he’d added yeast to the bread for the day’s meals only to come back the following day to unleavened dough. There’d been more than one skin of wine tainted with salt served to Thranduil’s tables. A number of shoes had turned up with mud or frogs hiding inside them. A large amount of laundry had been stained a florid pink by some unknown plant. The list went on, one juvenile prank after another.

            All these things seemed to have but one thing in common, it had all began to happen when his guard had found an odd child wandering his forest. She was moving in the area of Dol Guldur and instantly seized by the patrol. When the creature had been brought to him, hood ripped from her as well as her alarming multitude of weapons he’d seen she was one of the Halflings of the West. There had been a time the small ones had roamed the lands not far from here but that had ended and there kind hadn’t been seen this far to the East in centuries. To find one now, glaring at him with large purple eyes and disheveled black curls was curious to say the least. And when all she’d done at his inquiries had been to scold him like his own mother over his treatment of women and fair folk he’d had quite enough and tossed her into one of his lower cells. Hopefully she’d see the error of her ways and start telling him just what she was doing there.

            But he’d not had a moment to check on the tiny creature as his people had suddenly all turned into Elflings! Half of them were whispering about the cursed Halfling, the other half about some evil that was befalling them by the Green Lady. It was true; all those who had been victimize had apparently some contact with their prisoner. Legolas had been the one to bring her before him, the archer had made some snide comment about Halflings in general, the butler had been charged with bringing her food which had apparently been a tad off, though fully edible as she’d proved, and Galion had been the one to lock the creature in the dungeons to begin with. They were supposed to be above this nonsense, as creatures of grace, the first Children for the Valar’s sake.

            It wasn’t helping his sudden chronic headache that his own son seemed far from concerned with the happenings in their Kingdom. Far from it, the child (though he’d been considered an adult for a number of centuries now) seemed far more concerned with the fact they even _had_ the Halfling in the dungeon. He’d come to Thranduil’s rooms on multiple occasions to beg for the creature’s freedom, something the King couldn’t do in all rights until he was sure there was nothing sinister in the thing. Of course now his entire people thought there was nothing but evil in the creature and all but his son refused to go near her. Legolas seemed far more entertained than distressed by the disappearances and some of the odd trickery happening about the place. Almost to the point Thranduil had began to suspect his son to be the culprit if he’d not been one of the first victims and rather honestly confused by the happenings. Some of the other elves weren’t quite as certain of his innocence, however. Tauriel was certain the lad had taken her sister’s bow, siting his presence when the weapon had gone missing as proof. The prince had merely insisted he’d been following a supposed lead in the disappearances when the thing had gone missing and gone back to whatever the hell he’d been up to before. There was something disturbing about watching one’s youngest child searching the darkness as though something lay in wait for him there. Thranduil was relatively certain children were supposed to grow out of that before they reached their majority.

            Rubbing his eyes as the strain finally broke what little patience he’d managed to salvage the King glared at his Captain and growl, “Enough! I am retiring for the eve. Unless there is a siege on the Halls I do not wish to be disturbed by anything or anyone!” With that the majesty had risen to his feet and swept out of the room. His son watched with a small smile on his amused face. The prince caught the swirl of shadow to the right of the chamber, but when he turned there was nothing visibly changed save Galion’s sour expression boring down on the lad. It appeared he was one who thought Legolas was having a little too much fun at everyone else’s expense.

***

            Bilbo almost fell out of her perch in the underground trees as the King swept out of the Halls in a royal huff. She’d been so excited about this ‘adventure’ as Gandalf had put it. She was promised to meet a Skin-changer and Elves. Well the skin-changer had been fun. Beorn had instantly taken to the tiny hobbits, they were one with the earth and nature, something he appreciated in all living creatures. And unlike Men, Dwarrow, or Elves they didn’t disrupt the land to build their large structures, they didn’t need to dig into the heart of the land for precious gems and gold. Hobbits were simple creatures that merely wished to coexist with nature, tending the land they settled, making it more fruitful and bright by their presence and care. Their smials were more akin to animal burrows than dwarven mines or this elfish labyrinth. Yes they ate meat and used animals for labor, but that was something even Beorn did, his bees the best example and his other ‘children’ aids in his home as well. He’d taken to calling Bilbo his wee bunny as she’d been all but hopping to meet him and was rather adorable as she chattered about asking him question after question.

            The only issue they’d had with the skin-changer was when they’d told him where they intended to go from his home and when. They’d arrived just as winter was beginning to set in, having left towards the middle of Autumn. Hearing they intended to traverse the wood in such harsh conditions was unthinkable and he’d offered them a safe haven to rest the winter months away. Gandalf hadn’t appreciated the delay in the slightest but Beorn had appealed to the mothering instincts in Bella and the hobbits had stayed. The wizard had huffed a bit and insisted he couldn’t stay in one place quite that long; he was an Istari and a member of the White Council who looked over all of Middle Earth. But he promised to be back in the Spring for their continued expedition. The months had passed peacefully and cheerily, hobbits and skin-changer enjoying each other’s simple lifestyle and company. Until, that was, a week or two before the first thaw. Belladonna had been setting up a lovely little tea for the three when she’d spied her little Bilbo staring out the window, once more, looking over the snowy fields to the East with that look of dreamy consideration and concern. The only bleedin’ reason Belladonna had taken this entirely too dangerous for such a new apprentice journey was the hope it would distract the lovesick thing and, with luck, have her forgetting all about that handsy dwarrow thief.

            Of course that thought sounded a hell of a lot like her mother-in-law’s voice. Belladonna even had a distinct memory of the woman trying to tell her Bungo that he merely needed to set his eye on another proper lass and he’d forget all about that fool of a Took. Rather than allow herself the proper time to evaluate just where she’d gone so very wrong in her life as to suddenly find herself turning into her _mother-in-law_ Bella began to make the arrangements to continue their mission. Gandalf wouldn’t be back, probably for another few weeks at the least. Bella wasn’t wiling to wait that long when she’d almost succeeded in sufficiently distracting her fauntling. Besides, the purpose of the mission wasn’t too dangerous past the travel. All they had to do was travel to an ancient deserted fortress in the Greenwood and see what they could find. The goal was some kind of key or some idea as to the hereabouts of said artifact. The Wizard hadn’t been too forthcoming in the why and wherewithal but he’d made it clear it was important and he needed someone with skill and, most of all, discretion.

            Beorn wasn’t happy they intended to investigate the wood, claiming things were changing within, and not for the better. He was even less pleased with their insistence on doing so alone without the gamy wizard for protection, but he wouldn’t stop them if they were dead set on it. He aided them in supplies and even walked the hobbits to the boarder before biding them fair well. He invited them back to his cabin should they find their way out again. Little did they realize how honest a concern that was going to be. Within two weeks they’d gotten lost and found again, and by the third they had stumbled into Dol Guldur.

            The stronghold was nothing but crumbling rock and overgrown forest as far as the eye could see. Statues stared out at them lifeless and unconcerned in their stony continence. The only sign of life other than plant was that of the spattered droppings every which way that Bella recognized as bat in nature. There was really nothing to be concerned with in the light of day. It didn’t stop either of them from feeling exposed, watched, and stalked. As a result the pair stayed close and held their hoods up and tight to their faces.

            It took them all of five hours to find their way into the dungeons where they found the skeleton of a dwarrow on the ground. Nothing too terrible in and of itself, this was a dungeon after all; save he was reaching through the bars as if imploring them to help. The sight sent shivers through the two as they marched on, determined if there were any sign to be had it would not be found by them in this place. Hightailing it out of the hold Bella barely had time to thrust Bilbo away and down into a small bush when the Elf patrol had descended on her. Luckily they hadn’t seen and didn’t find the hidden faunt and they merely marched the elder off to their King. They also didn’t see Bilbo following them to their Hall.

            She grudgingly admitted they had a glorious hall but she was in no way swayed by the beauty seeing as they’d ruined all her childhood fancy concerning the noble race. When Gandalf had suggested they would see Elves she’d turned beseeching eyes to her mother and she’d caved, having been the one to instill this love for the fair folk in her sweet child after all. But these were nothing like her mother’s stories. These elves were rude and chilly, their King worst of all. They had no benevolence and locked her mother away, feeding her stale bread and left over porridge three times a day, hardly a diet a hobbit could live on! It was all she could do to not skewer them where they stood. But killing them would send a rage unto herself and her mother, potentially ending them both. So she’d made things a little uncomfortable for them instead. A nicked item here and there, salt in foodstuffs and new silver set for them when they got home. Some things she specifically chose for her cousins. Little Drogo would enjoy the pretty stylized cuff she’d lifted from a guard. Adalgrim was fond of his swordplay so the cutlass was his. Sigismund had been wanting to try his hand at archery, there just hadn’t been any bowmen about that he could commission a fine weapon from that was strong enough to practice with but light enough for a hobbit. Happily the wood elves were known for their archery and had met those criteria rather nicely. The small daggers were hers; they fit right up her sleeves as though meant for that sole purpose. She’d have a holster made for them when she returned to Breeland.

            It had been less than a fortnight since they’d taken her mother and she’d turned the Elfish Halls on their ear. There were some like the Captain of the Guard who stormed down the halls, angry at being taken to task and made a fool. Then there were others who darted about fearfully glancing through the shadows, as though sensing her presence but not able to discern her location. The only one that held any real challenge to her relatively untried skills was that of the young prince. He’d been the one who’d captured her mother, but he’d also been the only elf to treat her with anything nearing decorum. The King had been dismissive and haughty, the rest varied from indifference to rude curiosity. This young Legolas was certainly curious but he didn’t allow it to influence the current of the chats he’d have with her mother when he’d bring her dinner. He’d even sneak down and give her extra meals when he was sure he wouldn’t be missed after he’d learned hobbits were used to seven meals a day. It didn’t mean Bilbo intended to give the daggers back but it made her feel better about having to leave her mother in that dank cell. It also didn’t make her want to expose her whereabouts to the princeling even though he came very close to catching her on multiple occasions. The closest being just as she’d nicked the bow for Sigismund. But he’d been distracted by the fiery red head and she’d easily blended back into the shadows of this darkened hall. There were times she was still sure he sensed her and could pinpoint her in the darkness but he never actually seemed to _see_ her, merely perceive. It kept her on her toes as she moved soundlessly through the halls (they hadn’t brought their boots for this trip, seeing as they were a great disadvantage they only ever engaged in when they were sure of Dwarrow or Men).

            Within the third week of their enforced stay Bilbo was cheerily encouraged by the preparations for the Spring Festivities. Apparently the Spring Equinox was as large a celebration for the Elves as it was Hobbits and the preparations were very well guarded and manned. Bilbo allowed them their preparations, not seeing the point in hindering the celebration when it provide the distraction she’d need to finally release her mother. She’d already taken note that the wine steward was rather fond of the Captain Galion, as such it was rather easy to overhear the time of a rendezvous he’d planned for the pair. They’d gotten a very impressive shipment of nice red he thought Galion would enjoy very much. Childs play to ensure that red was a bit stronger than they’d originally intended, switching it for a skin of Thranduil’s own vintage, mere slight of hand to relieve the Guard of the keys that would release her mother. With a small side trip to return the key link to the unconscious louts the pair snuck through the front gates back into the wood all while the Grand Hall was filled with merry making sylvan elves. Neither hobbit realized they’d actually been seen fleeing the Halls, but the little prince was in no hurry to sound any alarm. He was far more interested in what was going to happen to Galion when Father found he’d allowed the hobbit to escape.

            By the time the pair made it out of the forest and back to Beorn’s Gandalf was just about to set out and find the two errant creatures, near frantic to save his tiny charges. Seeing the less than amused faces he’d had the sense to appear contrite, just not the sense to avoid mentioning he’d told the pair to wait for him. Belladonna had near set the old coot’s beard on fire by the time the yelling stopped. It had only been Bilbo’s disarming that had ended that vicious lecture from her mother about endangering children and women to old for this malarkey. Beorn was the first to realize she’d just taken a rather ornate circlet out of her cloak; one that resembled the first leaves of Spring and seemed to glow from within. Gandalf was gob smacked as the bear asked the trickster how she’d managed to snatch the Spring Crown from the top of the Elf King’s head without him knowing. A question to which Bilbo merely shrugged, “You really shouldn’t be rude to ones mother. It’s not good manners or Kingly. As such he needs a time to reflect on what this crown really means and he shan’t get it back till he’s seen the error of his ways.” Belladonna fell off her chair laughing at her cheeky little daughter.

***

            Coming up Bagshot Row Belladonna had her arm wrapped around her wee one as they trudged the last few steps of their journey. It was summer, they’d been gone something like nine months with Gandalf. As they turned the corner that would give way to Bangend the pair of exhausted and homesick hobbits stopped in their tracks. There was a rather impressive congregation of family trying to railroad themselves into their smial. The only thing, apparently, keeping the whole lot off was Grammy Baggins and the Old Took, both flanked by some of Bilbo’s elder cousins such as Sigismond and Adalgrim, all wielding their weapons of choice. Uncle Fosco was there as well though he was far less intimidating with his kitchen frying pan. And in front of all that were their gardener, Holman, shovel firmly in hand. Even Grammy Baggins was waving her yew cane about.

            Belladonna roared into the din and the lot suddenly demanded to know where the pair’d been, they’d all thought they’d died and were trying to sort out the inheritance. Bilbo merely shook her head as she led her cousins and the Old Took inside, allowing her mother and Grammy to deal with the mess.

            Later, after the family had been thoroughly shamed and Belladonna had resolved that she’d leave the entirety of Bagend to her gardener should anything happen to the pair of them just to thoroughly scandalize the vultures, the young mother found herself face to face with her mother-in-law. The icy blue gaze was firm and smug as she turned to her son’s errant wife, “Did she forget him?” The purple glare was all she needed to have a cackle hooting from the ancient beast. When the old woman had calmed enough she took a handkerchief from her sleeve and dabbed at her watery eyes before glancing at the fuming woman. With a shake of the head she did something that would shock the core of Belladonna Baggins’ world from then to the end of her days. She patted her gently on the cheek and smiled affectionately at her as she said in a soft tone, “It’s alright dear. I had to learn the hard way too. Our Baggins’ know what they want after all, and when they’ve se their heart on something nothing’s capable of swaying them for longer than a mo’.” The matriarch then marched into the smial to congratulate her compatriots on a job well done and thank the Tooks for their contribution in keeping the hounds at bay. Belladonna spent a few moments more outside, teary eyed as she was wracked with remembrance, chuckling quietly as she apologized to her dear Bungo for questioning his daughter. 


End file.
